Baby, you can drive my car
by Dianaprince89
Summary: Jane only lets Maura drive. One-shot.


Jane always drove.

She hated it when other people drove. She barely tolerated it when she couldn't take the wheel. Korsak, Frankie, Frost, and her mother had all on more than one occasion gotten an ear-full for trying to convince her to ride shot-gun.

She hated the loss of control that came with being a passenger. It went against every independent, protective instinct she had. There were too many variables, too many unknowns. She couldn't control things from the passenger seat.

Jane always drove.

So the people in Jane's life were surprised, to say the least, when they realized that Maura drove the two women around. Quite frequently.

Everyone had a theory about the reason. Maura's car was nicer. Maura was actually more of a control-freak than Jane. Jane just couldn't say no to Maura.

They were all correct, to some degree. Jane knew Maura's car was nicer than anything she'd ever drive, that Maura was as much of a control-freak as she was, and that she really just couldn't say no to Maura.

But the real reason...

Jane glanced over at Maura, perched behind the wheel. They were at a red light, but Maura rarely took her eyes off the road. It afforded Jane ample opportunities to scrutinize the other woman.

So scrutinize she did.

Dark sunglasses did nothing to obscure the radiant glow of Maura's eyes, the gentle flush of her cheeks from the afternoon sun. Her skin was clean and smooth, her dress immaculately tailored. It was warm outside, and while Jane languished in her dark suits, Maura wore light spring dresses that left her legs completely bare. Her heels accented the muscles in her calves and thighs.

And when Maura drove, her dress would ride up scandalously high on those powerful thighs.

Jane had, initially, tried to divert her gaze. They would get in the car and Maura's toned thighs would peek out from her dress and Jane would look away. Eventually though, she just couldn't help it.

Maura's creamy, lightly-muscled thighs would ripple and flex as Maura pressed the gas and Jane would bite back a sigh. It was difficult not to drool, not to reach over and stroke a calloused hand over one of those thighs.

Jane wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. Wondered what they'd feel like wrapped around her waist.

She imagined they'd feel... delicious. She imagined there was no more perfect place in the world than wrapped up between Maura's thighs, the smaller woman's arms around her.

Sometimes, Jane felt bad for objectifying Maura. For turning such an innocent thing, giving Jane a ride, into some sort of mobile peep-show. But it was hard to feel sorry when Maura was so damn gorgeous, so sexy and supple and perfect.

"Jane," Maura said.

Maura cleared her throat and Jane's eyes whipped back to the road in front of them. She knew her face was flushing pink and she hoped Maura wouldn't notice.

"I said," Maura's voice held a tinge of annoyance, and Jane knew it must have been at least the third time she asked. "Where would you like to eat?"

"Uhh," Jane hedged, her mind almost completely blank. "Spike's."

Maura didn't reply, and Jane was surprised. Usually her desire to eat a junkyard hot dog would have gotten a retort of some kind about arterial health or sodium levels or even just a comment bemoaning her untrained palette.

It was Jane's turn to choose but she read Maura's silence as disappointment at her choice.

"Fine," she sighed. "Parish Cafe."

Maura's brow furrowed slightly and Jane felt her own confusion growing. Maura loved Parish Café.

"Is that not ok?" Jane asked.

"No, no," Maura replied. "Spike's is fine. It's your turn to choose."

Jane waited a beat before prompting,

"But?"

"Why do you always stare at my legs while I'm driving?" Maura's voice was curious.

Jane groaned, her head hitting the headrest in frustration. Maura simply gazed out the windshield, her expression unreadable.

Jane felt panicked. A million and one reasons, excuses, lies, came to mind. But none of them seemed plausible, nothing would stand up to Maura's curious scrutiny.

Denial seemed the best choice.

"I don't stare at your legs, Maura," Jane said evenly, a hint of 'that's so obvious' in her tone.

"You do," Maura replied assuredly. "I first noticed it a few weeks ago. You continually appraise my legs while I'm driving. Sometimes your lips move like you're talking to yourself. Am I not doing something correctly when I drive? I realize you may know more about proper form for driving, particularly after your racing school experience."

Jane briefly considered opening the door and jumping out. They were only going thirty miles an hour. Surely that would be less painful and embarrassing than this conversation.

"Uh yeah," Jane lied. "You keep your left leg too close to the pedals for an automatic. You really should shift your left foot a little more to the side so that it doesn't interfere with the brakes accidentally."

"Oh," Maura nodded, and Jane noticed her shift her foot. Noticed the way her muscles rippled. Noticed the way it pulled her dress tight across the valley between her thighs. "Better?" Maura asked.

"Yeah," Jane rasped. "Better."

For the rest of the ride to Spikes, Jane looked intently out the passenger window. She admitted grudgingly to herself that she'd probably have to start driving them. At least until summer passed and Maura was forced into slightly longer dresses.

By the time they were seated and eating their lunches, Jane felt a bit sad at the prospect of no longer being afforded such an uninterrupted view of Maura's legs on a regular basis. She knew the melancholy was obvious, and incredibly inappropriate, but she couldn't shake it.

Jane would have to drive them from now on. For some reason, the idea of regaining control didn't hold the same appeal now.

She always drove.

She hated it when other people drove. She barely tolerated it when she couldn't take the wheel.

But damn, she loved Maura's legs.


End file.
